


Alternative Transportation

by roqueamadi



Series: What Happens in Dorne, Stays in Dorne [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Jaime is sexually frustrated, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn With Plot, graphic descriptions of dirty clothing...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:16:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/pseuds/roqueamadi
Summary: When the merchant captain cancels at the last minute, Jaime is left to figure out alternative transportation to Dorne. Bronn doesn't approve of his choice.





	Alternative Transportation

_“That_ ship?”

Bronn got a grip on Jaime’s neck and dragged him sideways behind some stacked crates on the wharf.

“What are you doing?” Jaime complained, dropping his bag so he could shove Bronn’s hand off. “They’re leaving any minute, we don’t have time—”

“Jaime, I thought you said you got us a spot on a merchant ship?”

“He cancelled,” Jaime shrugged. “This is the only ship leaving the harbour today, he said to just go ask them, it will be fine—”

He started to move off but Bronn grabbed him again, dragging him back.

“Jaime. Do you even know what kind of ship that is?”

Jaime blinked at Bronn’s uncharacteristically concerned face. “It’s a prisoner transport, but it’ll be fine.”

“You do remember we’re undercover, right? You can’t just march up and demand passage—is that what you were planning to do?”

Jaime hesitated. He _had,_ but Bronn didn’t need to know that. “No. Well, I thought I could say you were my prisoner, and— what?”

He frowned as Bronn turned away, snorting laughter. _“You_ want to be the jailor?”  
“Why not?”

Bronn got himself under control enough to speak. “Listen, Jaime. We’re not taking that ship. We’ll get another in the morning. My job is to keep you alive, right? If we walk up to that ship and you say you’re the jailor and I’m the prisoner, they’ll be picking their teeth with our bones come morning. Have you ever _been_ on one of those ships?”

“No,” Jaime said sullenly.

“Well I have. And we’re not doing that.”

Bronn bent down to snatch up Jaime’s bag, throwing it over his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“Bronn—” Jaime moved to block him from stepping back out onto the wharf. “We _have_ to go tonight. We can’t wait. Myrcella could be in danger _right now_ , I can’t wait a whole extra day!”

“Alright, alright,” Bronn said, mildly alarmed, holding his palms up. “I get it, but there ain’t no point taking a transport that will get us both killed. Unless you have any more bright ideas?”

_“You_ could be the jailor,” Jaime suggested off the top of his head. “I could be the prisoner. I don’t care.”

Bronn hid a grin under a hand passed over his chin. “You’re up for that, are you?” he asked mildly.

“Stop it,” Jaime growled. “Just tell me what you think is so terrible I can’t handle it, don’t _tease—”_

“It _is_ terrible and you definitely _can’t_ handle it. Don’t you know what happens to prisoners on those transports? They get beaten and raped. And any jailor who doesn’t join in on the _fun_ will get the same treatment.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “You could protect me if you’re _my_ jailor.”

Bronn just stared at him.

Jaime didn’t see what the big deal was. It wasn’t a very _long_ journey anyway. “Come on, Bronn. I’ll be the prisoner, just let’s _go.”_

Bronn gave a long-suffering sigh and dropped the bags on the ground again. “Well, don’t blame me if it all goes to shit. And strip.”

“What?” Jaime asked, taken by surprise.

Bronn smirked. “You heard me. Can’t show up like that if you expect to pass as a prisoner. We’ll swap clothes, least you’ll look a bit less sparkly. No jerkin though, that’s too much. And I’ll need some other things… back in a minute.”

Bronn slipped out from their hiding place and Jaime reluctantly peeled off his jerkin, leaving his plain undershirt only. Bronn was back a moment later and toeing his boots off.

They swapped pants and boots. Bronn’s were dirtier and older. And Bronn gave Jaime his long-sleeved undertunic, which was baggy on Jaime and made the gloves over both his real and fake hand less obvious. When that was done, Bronn held up a rope. Jaime put his wrists together and let Bronn tie them up.

“Is that too tight?” he asked as he finished the knot.

“It’s fine.”

Jaime suddenly felt vulnerable. He hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. He let his tied hands drop in front of him, the loose end of the rope in Bronn’s hand. Then Bronn picked up something else and Jaime frowned.

“What’s that for?”

Bronn lifted the sack and put it over Jaime’s head, cutting off his sight.

“Is this necessary?” Jaime asked through his teeth.

“Dunno how else you expect to stop everyone on that ship from recognising you,” he muttered, tying the rope loosely around Jaime’s neck to hold the sack in place. “That’ll have to do.”

Jaime stood still while he listened to Bronn moving around, packing all their things back into their bags.

“Now,” Bronn said. “You’ve gotta do as I say. And don’t break character. Don’t argue, don’t complain, and go along with whatever I say. Alright?”

“Alright,” Jaime agreed, and swallowed hard as he felt a tug on the rope and stumbled blindly after Bronn.

He trusted Bronn. He wouldn’t have brought him on this mission in the first place, if not. But this was beyond regular trust. This was literally putting his life in the man’s hands. Jaime felt, unexpectedly, nervous as he shuffled after Bronn, following the tug of the rope on his wrists, back out onto the wharf and down towards the prison ship. He couldn’t see anything through the sack over his head.

A hand on his chest. Jaime stopped.

“What’s this?” a rough voice asked.

“Prisoner bound for Dorne,” Bronn replied, equally rough.

“We’re fully loaded,” the man replied dismissively. “Don’t have no papers for no one else.”

“Oh, I’ve got those papers,” Bronn said smoothly, with a distinctly un-paper-like clinking sound.

“Ah. That’s in order then. On you go, we leave any minute.”

Another tug on the rope. Jaime followed, stumbling as his feet hit the incline of the gangplank. He lifted his feet probably more than necessary until he was—he _thought—_ up on the deck.

Bronn kept tugging him. There were loud voices ahead. They were moving toward them. Jaime now had no reference for what it must look like. He just knew they were on the ship, and moving toward a large group of loud, course men.

“Make way, boys.” Jaime heard Bronn’s voice, but it hardly cut through the shouts. And then they were louder—they were jeering, laughing—was it directed at him?

Someone touched him. A heavy hand running down his back. Jaime flinched away. He hadn’t been expecting that at all. But the first one seemed to open the floodgates for the others, because suddenly many hands were touching him everywhere, with jeers of—

“Ooh, a fresh one, boys!”

“There’s a pretty arse under there, no doubt!”

“Look how fuckin’ clean he is!”

Jaime couldn’t keep walking. There were hands all over him. They were grabbing his arms, his legs, and quickly grew bolder. Someone cupped his crotch. Someone squeezed his arse cheek. Someone squeezed the other side, pressing his thumb hard up against Jaime’s arsehole. Jaime bent over, desperate to protect the secret of his hand, at least.

Then the men fell away.

“Touch my fuckin’ prisoner again and I’ll cut your fuckin’ fingers off,” came Bronn’s voice over the noise.

“Fuck, take it easy, mate,” someone muttered and Jaime could only imagine the scene.

A tug on his wrist again, and they were moving. They were through the group. The voices grew a little further away. Bronn’s hand on his chest again, then he roughly grabbed Jaime’s arm and sat him down on something. Bronn sat beside him; Jaime could feel his shoulder against his own.

“It’s alright,” Bronn said in a low voice. “Jaime—you hear me? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Jaime managed.

“I _told_ you this would be… You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” Jaime said.

“You’re shaking.”

“No I’m not.”

Bronn sighed. “Look, just… it’ll be over soon, alright? Just go along with it. I’ll protect you.”

Jaime gave a slight nod.

 

He knew from the yelling and the movement that the ship had cast off. He had no idea what part of the ship he was on, but he was at least certain he was still outdoors, not below decks. Bronn didn’t leave his side even for a second, and when some food was served for the jailors, Bronn tugged Jaime with him.

Jaime wasn’t sure how that would be received by the group, and wasn’t surprised when Bronn was challenged.

“You ain’t gonna feed _him_ ,” one of them said pointedly.

“We have a genius over here,” Bronn exclaimed sarcastically, drawing some laughter from the others as he shoved Jaime down to sit on the floor. There was the scrape of a stool or a crate or something behind him, and then Jaime distinctly felt Bronn’s thighs pressing against his arms on either side. Bronn had sat him down between his legs.

Jaime was glad of the sack, for once, because he felt his face heating up. No one made any comment though, and as Jaime listened to the snatches of conversation throughout the dinner, he gathered some other jailors had prisoners in that position too. He also gathered some prisoners were expected to do more than merely _sit_ there between their legs.

The challenge Jaime had been expecting came only fifteen minutes or so later.

“Oi, if you’re not gonna use that one, I will.”

Bronn’s thighs tightened around Jaime. “Oh, I’ll use him alright, don’t you fuckin’ worry.”

“You’re not using him now,” the other man pointed out blandly.

Bronn got up. Jaime hurried to his feet after him, and then was being tugged away, back in the direction he thought they’d come from before. It was dark now, he was pretty sure; he had at least got a little light through the sack earlier, but there was nothing now.

Bronn halted him. Jaime heard rustling and thumping for several minutes and stood impatiently waiting to know what was going to happen.

Then, suddenly, Bronn tugged at the rope on Jaime’s neck and pulled the sack off his head.

Jaime breathed in deeply in relief. It was indeed dark. They were out on open water, the stars overhead. He was standing near the rail of the ship. Bronn had evidently just set up their bedrolls on the deck. Other bedrolls were scattered around. Men were gathered back behind them, eating their meal.

Bronn grabbed Jaime’s chin as he turned to look. “Don’t look over there,” he muttered fiercely. “I can take this off while it’s dark but you've still gotta be careful. Now lie down.”

“What’s happening?” Jaime asked, getting awkwardly to his knees, his hands still tied, and shuffling over onto his bedroll.

“Boots off,” Bronn instructed, following him down. Jaime lay back so he could toe his boots off, then slid his legs under the blankets. Bronn did the same, and moved close to Jaime.

“It would be in character for you to complain now,” he muttered, and pulled the blankets over them before making some exaggerated wiggling movements.

“What are you doing?” Jaime said through his teeth.

“Getting your pants off,” Bronn replied, though he was doing nothing of the sort, then he reached up to shove Jaime over onto his side.

“Are you—” Jaime breathed, pausing momentarily to collect himself as Bronn reached over to tug Jaime’s upper knee up towards his chest and settling his—fully clothed, but _still—_ groin against Jaime’s arse. “Are you fake raping me?”

“Yes,” Bronn growled in his ear. “Shut up and make some noises.”

“Do you want me to shut up or do you want me to make noises?” Jaime asked, grinning as he heard the slight fluster in Bronn’s voice, then the grin wiped off his face as Bronn thrust against him. _Yes_ they were both fully clothed, but that didn’t disguise the distinct feeling of Bronn’s cock against Jaime’s arse.

“Come on, princess,” Bronn breathed in his ear, and Jaime’s hands were tied and Bronn’s arm was wrapped around Jaime’s stomach and he was _rocking_ slowly against Jaime’s arse, and Jaime didn’t want to admit it but the noise he let out wasn’t exactly faked.

“That’s it,” Bronn praised, keeping up a steady rhythm, and Jaime would be more concerned with the fact that Bronn’s cock was _definitely_ now starting to make more of a _noticeable_ pressure against his arse if his own cock wasn’t also acting inappropriately.

Jaime hoped desperately that Bronn wouldn’t notice. Someone walked by their spot, pausing for a moment. “Can I ‘av a go after you?” he said.

“Fuck off, cunt,” Bronn growled in response, and hauled Jaime over further, his arm slipping down so it circled his hips as Jaime’s face and chest pressed against the bedroll while Bronn lifted his hips. Jaime got his knees under him automatically and Bronn shuffled between his thighs, their lack of undress still concealed by the blankets over them as Bronn put his chest to Jaime’s back, thrusting hard against him, enough that Jaime’s hard cock pressed against the arm Bronn was holding him up with.

He knew Bronn noticed, because he paused for a moment—shock, Jaime assumed, though he thought it would be a bit hypocritical if Bronn chose to tease him about it. He didn’t though. He just picked up the pace, thrusting against Jaime’s arse, and Jaime just _wished_ he could get a bit of friction, anything—he was gasping, and he didn’t bother to hide the moan that escaped him as Bronn adjusted his angle slightly and he was really pressing against Jaime right where he wanted him, if only the damn clothes weren’t in the way, and—

He caught himself and backtracked his own thoughts. He didn’t actually _want_ Bronn to fuck him in the arse... did he? Bronn didn’t even _like_ men. Right? Well, the state of his cock was certainly indicating otherwise.

Bronn’s forearm slipped lower, and Jaime’s cock managed to get wedged between his stomach and Bronn’s arm, and suddenly a whole new problem occurred to him. He _was_ getting friction now. He felt something building and panicked, trying to move away, but Bronn held him tightly and the shift made the angle even better—worse! The rock of Bronn’s hips jolted Jaime rhythmically, and he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t stop it—

Jaime choked back a groan as warmth filled his smallclothes. Bronn slammed to a halt a few seconds later and let out a grunt, his climax decidedly less realistic, then rolled off Jaime.

Jaime rolled onto his back, his shoulder pressing against Bronn’s. They were both panting.

Jaime glanced around. No one was nearby right now.

“Bronn…”

“Mm?”

Jaime had no idea what he’d been about to say. He lapsed into silence.

 

They disembarked at Sunspear, maintaining their disguise until they were far enough into the city that they could duck into an alley and get Jaime untied. Then they started for the Water Gardens, staying off the road and instead sticking to the dunes. It was slow going, but travelling on the road wasn’t worth the risk of being recognised.

They stopped for the night just before sunset. Bronn built a small fire just off the beach, and Jaime unpacked the supplies from their bags.

“I’ll have my clothes back now, too,” Bronn said over his shoulder. “Your shirt’s a little tight on my chest.”

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Alright.” He stood to pull Bronn’s clothes off. Bronn did the same, tossing Jaime’s garments over. Jaime hesitated when he got the pants off, catching a whiff of the mess he’d made last night. His smallclothes certainly hadn't done a great job of containing it. He hadn’t yet decided what to do about it when Bronn stomped over and snatched them out of his hands.

“Don’t fancy standing around in my underwear,” he muttered, flicking them out, and then he paused. Jaime winced as he lifted them to sniff at the crotch, and then looked back up at Jaime with a disgusted expression.

“Did you spend in my pants?" he exclaimed, incredulous. "Just from a little rub?”

Jaime wished the sand would open up and swallow him. “I… I…”

“Or you liked what I did that much, huh?” Bronn smirked. “Well, you can go clean them off,” he said, tossing the pants back at Jaime. Jaime didn't complain, he just nodded and turned towards the beach.

He didn’t think he’d ever been so mortified in all his life. He miserably stripped out of his clothes again on the deserted beach—he needed to clean himself off too, his seed had dried sticky and flaky all over his groin—and took his smallclothes and Bronn's pants with him as he waded out into the water and sat down in the shallows. The water was warm and the sun was setting spectacularly in the west. He let the waves wash over him and submerged the garments as he sat with his elbows on his knees, his forehead dropping onto his forearms.

He didn't hear Bronn come up behind him.

“I’m washing them!” Jaime yelped in defence as Bronn’s hand fell on his shoulder, lifting the handful of garments to show him, but Bronn just chuckled.

“Filling them with sand, more like,” he chastised lightly, but Jaime didn’t think he really meant it, because his hand was running across Jaime’s shoulders and then down his back. Jaime turned his head to see what he was doing, and caught a glimpse of Bronn’s body, also stripped naked, as he knelt down behind him, before he put two fingers on Jaime’s lips, stopping his movement and silencing him. A sudden jolt of nerves shot down Jaime’s spine.

“You just hold tight to those clothes,” Bronn said with a grin in his voice, letting his saltwater-wet fingers slide across Jaime's lips for a moment. Jaime let out a shaky breath, and Bronn moved closer, his arms and legs wrapping around Jaime from behind.

"What are you..."

He trailed off as Bronn's hands stroked over his chest, one up to his throat to hold him still and the other down to close over his cock. Jaime was already hard.

Bronn started to pump him firmly. Jaime sat there rigidly for a moment, still not quite able to believe what was happening, then little tendrils of pleasure begun to spark from the motions of Bronn's hand into his centre, and he sighed, letting his head fall back onto Bronn’s shoulder.

The other man chuckled deeply in his ear. “If I’d known you wanted _this_ all along, we could’ve put on a much more convincing show for those jailors last night.”

“Bronn…” Jaime breathed, wanting to convey that the feeling in his balls was already twisting tightly, but he couldn’t manage any more words than that.

However, Bronn got the message, letting him go and moving his hands to his hips. Before Jaime realised what he was doing, Bronn had flipped him around, getting Jaime’s legs up over his own and pulling him closer. Jaime gasped as their cocks brushed past each other in the water, and Bronn grabbed them, closing his grip around the two of them, pressing them together. His lips were on Jaime’s before he even knew what was happening.

Bronn rubbed them both together roughly for several seconds and then let go, taking one in each hand. Jaime hooked his ankles together behind Bronn’s spine, and kept the clothes tight in his left fist, his arms resting on Bronn’s shoulders, his mouth opening for his tongue.

The setting sun turned Bronn’s skin golden, and his kisses were perfect. Jaime felt his body coming alive under Bronn’s fingers and tongue in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time— _years._

“Bronn,” he breathed again, but he didn’t know how to put the feeling into words. He let his forehead drop onto Bronn’s neck, the waves rocking them both gently as he panted against Bronn’s damp skin. They both came together.

Jaime collapsed limply against Bronn, his legs still wrapped around him. The other man’s hands came around to hold him gently at the small of his back as they both recovered.

“Jaime,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

“You lost the clothes.”

Bronn was right. Jaime’s left hand was empty, clasping instead at Bronn’s bicep. He sprung hurriedly to his feet, stumbling for a moment on shaky legs, and splashed after the garments which were floating away in different directions, while Bronn sat in the shallows and laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this sitting around for ages, and only just got around to doing the final edits and posting. I hope you liked it! ^_^


End file.
